LIVING THE PRESENT

Being a newscaster is perhaps the most terrific experience in my life so far. I have worked in two other fields since I completed my Advanced level, one being a graphic designer and the other as a research officer. Well, speaking honest, I enjoyed both of them and I still like them. But why would I leave them and choose to be a newscaster by profession? Was it the fame or interest? Time would tell since I wasn’t very sure what I wanted.
I am here, more than a year at the field, being a newscaster and proud of it. I have a thousand stories to tell yet I choose a few.

Imagine, Someday you walk into your office with a promise in your heart to meet your sweetheart that night and all of a sudden your boss wants to meet you alone and requests you to go to a bureau! Pity! Knowing your boss doesn’t have a choice all you could do is smile and say “As you say, Madam!” The next day you will be all gone to some bureau. Some where you probably have never been. You wouldn’t probably know where you were going to sleep that night. All you could do was hope for the best and leave. This is a real scenario. It has happened with me many times.

Being a news caster for me is being in the present. Living the present. I can not plan much for tomorrow. Most of the things come unexpected, unwarned. Speak about the tidal waves that hit all Maldives at once, or the much organized Jalsaa(s) and other functions, it all comes as a sudden hit. “What’s next?” is always the big question. It is amazing how much people expect from me. It sometimes bothers me how easily people can forget there are at least about six thousand people living in the atoll, in at least five different islands, hours away from each other! Lack of regular transportation does always end me up in dilemmas.
Speaking about the tough life as a newscaster I must tell you my last experience, two days before I wrote this. I was returning from an island after covering some environmental activity. It was night when the activities were over. Oh! Did I forget to mention, sending video footage is possible only in the bureau station because internet connections, if at all, hardly reaches 54kbps in other islands of the atoll. So I always have to hurry to return to bureau if I want to send the footage soon. As I began the journey in a 12 foot engine boat, the sky was clear and heavenly. Twinkling stars were every where and the moon almost full and halfway through the sky. It was about mid night. I was an only passenger with a crew man and a captain. The small boat hardly rose a foot above sea level which kept giving me creeps despite the fact I have traveled quite a lot with dhonis. I got online with my mobile phone and started chatting with my sweetheart. I told her I wanted to kill time. I was carried away by the chat when I started realizing cool ocean breeze becoming harsh wind. I looked at the sky and it was getting darker and the sea was getting rougher. I was describing the scenario to my sweetheart and it all took less than fifteen minutes to turn the blissful night to a howling storm. I was praying to Allah for my safety. I could see the rough see when lightning strikes through the pitch black night. I wrote to my sweetheart “Black clouds over my head. Pray for me.” And it started raining. The rain was sharp as pins piercing my face. Sea throws into the boat at times I got all soaked in seawater along with the heavy rain. I couldn’t open my eyes because of the sharp rain and masses of sea hitting my face. The small boat inside the gigantic waves of the fierce ocean was the scariest thing one could probably go through. My whole body tense with fear, trembling in shiver, all I could do was pray. And I kept doing it. I could see the harbor lights of my destination and it felt like hours of struggle to get there in the storm. When we finally made it to the destination, I took all my equipments and jumped to the jetty. A sigh of relief left my trembling body. What happened next was something I never expected in my short, yet experienced carrier as a newscaster. There were two men taking refuge in the roofed jetty. I wasn’t surprised because they didn’t help me with my equipments. But rather I was jaw-dropped when they could start complaining about how TVM covers news events and practically warning me that I have only one chance to prove myself to them… I just returned from a news shooting, in the open mouth of a storm and the cold people were just blabbering whatever that crossed their skulls!? I was not speechless.

Being a newscaster I have seen how tranquil people can be. I learned it is best not to expect anything from anybody in this field. However times come when people would really appreciate the work. Although those are pluses for me to continue my career, the main thing is the satisfaction from doing something entirely on my own. Right from researching, to camera, and the final touches it all goes through my hands and when it leaves my hands, whole Maldives is watching it. The positive feedback to what I have done in my career so far has backed me up for some dreams.

I have a thousand reasons to hate this job yet I have a thousand and one reasons to love it. I love this job. It is about giving and giving more. It is about dealing with a different person everyday. Being a newscaster is the biggest challenge in my life so far.
HAMID HUZAM

SHOOTING MARATHON

Since Television Maldives initiated it’s “bureau project”, it has been in the limelight of the nation, no doubt about that is there? And no wonder, since it was all so sudden. One could call it TVM’s bolt of lightening. At least, it resembled something like that to me. It all began with a heavenly working day with blue skies and a soft wind. It was just a few weeks into my brand new job at TVM, and I was suffused in a feeling of contentment, still wallowing in the feeling of finishing school and earning my very own salary. Then, out of no where, I was unceremoniously enlightened to the fact that I was to go to a bureau. A what? An Atoll Bureau! To be stationed at some island in some atoll as a newscaster covering the news of that certain atoll. Now how about that, I mused. I love adventures and the prospect of bureaus was very much to my taste. And so I packed my bags, armed myself with a camera, camera stand and laptop and began my “bureauhood”. I was one of the first eight newscasters to go off to a bureau and it seems like a long time ago now; such a lot has happened.

There are a lot of interesting anecdotes I could tell my grandchildren huddled around a warm fire which happened throughout my experience at the bureaus in the space of about ten months.

But today, working in male’, a certain incident keeps drifting up to the surface of my mind. First of all, before listening to the ramblings of a newscaster who is or has worked at a bureau, one has to really understand the fact that Maldives is HOT. Pure white sand is endearing enough to the people trying to promote tourism in Maldives, but it sure reflects a lot of sunlight and is glaring to the eyes, and the overall feeling of one’s brains boiling in their skulls happens to be a frequently faced problem. Combine that with soft sand difficult to walk on and a camera and limited time. The equation gives a solution of a headache, but at the end of the day when the velvet night tiptoes in with stunning glamour and beauty, one can forget the horrors of the day and sink into the bliss of practically floating in the peace that a newscaster in Male’ would surely not come across.

Now, when I was in Raa Atoll Bureau, there came a day which seemed even hotter than usual. The Bureau is stationed at Un’gufaaru and is renowned as being a white heap of hot coals.

On this certain day, there were three events I was to cover in three different islands almost at the same time. All wanted video coverage. One island was Un’gufaaru, the other In’guraidhu and the last Maduvvari. The “Jamiyyathul Saif” of Un’gufaaru had organized a Koran recitation competition some time before, and they were going to hand out certificates to the participants that day. A small mosque which had taken about five years in the building (yes, that was five with the numerical symbol of “5”) was to be finally opened to the public at In’guraidhu and quite a major workshop on pre and post natal care to be concluded at Maduvvari. I could have escaped the tedious job of planning a trip to each of these islands if I had not promised to video all three events. I walked wide eyed into this pressing dilemma because of the unfortunate order in which I came to know of these shootings.

I had promised to video the Un’gufaaru event three days ago, and then the Maduvvari shooting came to my knowledge a day later, and I promised to that because it seemed more important to me. And last of all, the In’guraidhu shooting was dropped onto me like a ton of hardened concrete at the last moment. The development desk editor in Male’ seemed to have a keen interest in that story, as did the Atoll chief.

And so I decided to leave the Un’gufaaru shooting and go to In’guraidhu with the Atoll chief. In’guraidhu and Maduvvari both lie on the same wing of the Atoll, Maduvvari being one of the furthest islands from Un’gufaaru. And so I had to think about the cost of the trip, since money in any one place is not something which could be just thrown here and there thoughtlessly.

My plan was to go to Maduvvari from In’guraidhu at a lower cost after going to In’guraidhu free of charge with the Atoll chief. I had no guarantee on coming back to Un’gufaaru that night, so I packed my laptop as well. And so I hopped into Atoll chief’s gulf craft and sped off to In’guraidhu. But to my surprise, the launch docked at the only resort in the atoll, Meedhupparu, first. The Atoll chief went inland after a brief embarrassing monologue with me (I was wearing a headphone listening to rather loud music, staring at the greenish water and humming while the Atoll chief stood behind me politely asking me whether I would go inland as well. He finally went away and it was the captain of the vessel who informed me of the chief’s attempts to communicate with me).

An endless nauseating rocking on the sea later, the Atoll chief and a small delegation trooped onto the launch. The delegation was to honor the opening of the mosque.

And so we all swarmed onto In’guraidhu less than an hour later.

Before the small assembly began, I got hold of a motor cycle and rattled off to take some footage of the boatyards at In’guraidhu to use for a report I was planning of compiling.

Then I ran to the mosque to shoot the opening of the mosque, and prayed the afternoon prayer immediately afterwards. After stepping out of the newly opened holy sanctuary, I called and arranged a trip to Maduvvari in an In’guraidhu launch. The captain and I stood about four meters away from each other and arranged everything via phone. After the phone call, the man approached me from behind and, beaming, invited me to have lunch with him first.

I was mildly surprised when I came to know he was behind me the whole time staring at my sweat soaked back while we spoke on the phone.

After a thorough lunch of garudhiya and rice, we rocketed off to Maduvvari, me answering about six phone calls in the process by the organizers of the workshop frantically informing me that the workshop was about to end.

As the launch slowed down at Maduvvari harbor, I leapt off the launch and sped to where the shooting was (at the health post) and, sweating profusely, took a few shots of the workshop. Right after the billing was done with, the In’guraidhu launch flew back to where it came from and I was able to breathe.

Then the phone calls began. Obviously the Un’gufaaru people were not very happy that I was not going to shoot their event, and they accused me of making false promises. I promised myself then and there not to make any more promises. Then those phone calls merged with those from the Newsroom in male’; they were requesting me to get a school news. So I frantically called the various schools of various islands to see if there could be anything I could pick at. I hit gold at An’golhitheem and was happily writing the news when a call came from Rasgetheem School, also to provide me with, oh joy, school news. I congratulated myself for bringing the laptop, and managed to send both the school news that night.

Here, I repeat, you would understand the state my body and brains were in if only you really truly understand that Maldives is a natural oven. I was grouchy and crabby and all the other feelings incorporated with that when a very rude man walked up to me and started shooting off his mouth at me and TVM in general. This is a frequent occurrence, and I wasn’t surprised but I was irritated beyond keeping my mouth shut. After a heated conversation, the man took my small lovable camera (a Sony PD170, to answer any curious readers) which I had placed on a table nearby and threatened me that he was not going to give it back unless I swore to make exactly what reports he wanted me to make. Now serving the public has a limit and this was certainly beyond that. To make a long story short, I got my camera back and he slouched off and no one was hurt. I thank the broadcast in journalism course here, since a bulb lit up my memories and I remembered “persuasion” which had been touched up in the course. I also imagined how my bosses would deal with the person, and used the tactic of looking down my nose at the insulting source of my irritation to make my point.

One might shudder when I say that these are frequent occurrences, but let me assure you, it is not as bad as it may sound here in black and white. Because in every sack of grain you are likely to come across a few blackened spoilt ones. It is natural, and to deal with them becomes a sort of entertainment. To this day I have not forgotten the tidal wave of people who enveloped me in blankets of warmness and friendliness that kept me together. Maldivians are a loving lot and I could say I walked on thousands of helping hands throughout the course of my time at bureaus. The warm blanket that drove me on this particular day was wrapped around my heart by the launch driver’s family in In’guraidhu who were a talkative lot as I helped myself to the wonderful Maldivian meal.

My apologies for the slight digression, but I do not think it is a waste, personally. Anyway, the night I spent at Maduvvari was uneventful since I was too tired to even venture into the realm of dreams, and the next day I sent the remaining two stories sitting comfortably in my room back in Un’gufaaru. I also got hold of some pictures of the Koran competition certificate distribution and sent that as well, but the sulky faces never dissolved. But I was sated and went out onto the white sand under the shade of merrily singing palm fronds and breathed a nice healthy lungful of ocean air. I was listening to the comforting sound of crows screaming their heads off when my phone rang a few times, and a few exchanged words later I sat wondering if I could cover a football match in Un’gufaaru and the conclusion of an agricultural workshop in Hulhudhufaaru at almost the same time the next day…